


I Got Guns, Spirits, In My Head

by Rhobot



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Asexual character(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Follows Game Plot to an Extent, Friendship, Gen, Gratuitous Use of Songs as Titles, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Might add more tags later, Revenge, Swearing, probably going to be a series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-27 23:26:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6304357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhobot/pseuds/Rhobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>--Walt Whitman, Song of Myself VI</em>
</p><p>Lex Bleu didn't die in that cryo-pod in Vault 111. Maybe in the bullshit, philosophical kind of way, the Lex before the bombs was dead; it certainly didn't hurt to lay parts of themself to rest. But it's hard to think of all this as some brave new world when you've still got a gun in your hand, when the new blood you spill just covers up the old blood you never quite washed out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Lex Bleu staggered out of the cryo-pod, shivering and wobble-legged. Their stiff fingers fumbled with the panel for Cole’s pod. Finally, the damned device opened. No miracle was waiting when the door lifted up. A feeling like ice sat heavy in Lex’s chest – a deep, stunned cold that wasn’t caused by the time spent in cryo. _Cryo, goddammit,_ Lex thought. They should’ve known, should’ve realized, should’ve trusted that gut feeling that screamed _wrong wrong wrong_ over the shell-shock of witnessing the end of the world. Lex had seen it in Cole’s eyes, right before they'd parted. He hadn’t trusted this any more than they had. And look where it had gotten him.

That man… He’d killed Cole. Right in front of where Lex had been, trapped and helpless. Shot him. Killed him. In cold-blood, with Shaun halfway out of his arms.

Lex was too numb to cry. Too disoriented to do much more than squeeze the cold clamminess of Cole’s hand after working the ring off his finger. They clenched that metal band tight in their fist. A promise.

Everyone else in the Vault was dead. They had been neighbors, people Lex hadn’t bothered to get to know after arriving with Cole and the baby in Sanctuary Hills. The Vault-Tec staff was all dead too, their bodies sprawled out on the floor and wasted down to their bones. _I’m the only one left_ , Lex thought, swallowing down the laugh that rose up on the bubble of hysteria within them.

Lex scraped giant-cockroach goo off their foot as they entered the Overseer’s room. Another skeleton lay on the floor. They stepped around it to check out the terminal. It was difficult to focus their eyes on the lines of text. The logs only confirmed what Lex had mostly figured out since waking up. They offered nothing for closure.

They didn’t know what to expect when the Vault elevator began its grinding ascent to the surface, the Pip-Boy on their left arm a strange and discomforting weight. They half-anticipated that they would be lethally irradiated the moment they arrived. But that was better than staying in an underground tomb.

As the doors slid back, Lex lifted a hand to block out the sudden brightness.

 _Hey, at least the sun’s still shining_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from The Strumbellas' [Spirits](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F9kXstb9FF4)


	2. There's No Road That Will Lead Us Back

The corpse of the world lay stretched out under a perfect blue sky.

Lex drew fresh air into their lungs, blinking as their eyes adjusted to the daylight. They weren’t dead (yet), and they didn’t feel radiation poisoning creeping along their body (yet), so that was good. Standing on the entrance to the Vault and breathing sounded like a decent enough plan for the moment.

Sanctuary Hills lay in ruin beneath them and, further out, Concord and Boston lay in what Lex figured was a similar state. _South_. _The bomb hit towards the south._ Well, one of the bombs at least, they corrected, recalling a television reporter with the end of the world trembling in his voice. There’d been multiple bombs. _Story of a lifetime_. Lex bet the rest of the country – hell, maybe even the planet – didn’t look much better than the sight before them.

The landscape was quiet except for the light wind the curled around the rocky hill. It was the kind of crisp breeze that was easily offset by the warmth of the direct sunlight and a light jacket; Lex lacked the latter but was surprised to find that the Vault-suit they were wearing – _who knows where my real clothes went_ – was well-insulated. At least they probably wouldn’t freeze come nightfall.

“It’s too damn quiet,” Lex said aloud. Somehow speaking made the silence more real, more oppressive, and a sudden, crushing feeling Lex recognized as “I’m-about-to-freak-the-fuck-out” constricted their chest. They took a deep breath in through their nose. Exhaled it slowly from their mouth. There would be time to panic later, maybe. _Breathe in. Breathe out._ _Repress that shit_.

Lex looked down at the 10mm pistol they held like the hand of a good friend. The last person to hold this was dead; Lex was not dead, which was always good, and they had a gun, which was very good. Life and a weapon: two things Lex knew how to work with. They looked back up at Sanctuary Hills. They scanned the horizon before turning at last to look around the Vault site. There were more skeletons out here. Likely died where they fell, the instant the blast hit them.

 _Who would’ve been lucky enough to survive, then?_ Lex wondered, uncertain as to whether “lucky” was the right word. They made their way down the path they’d ran on a morning similar to this one, once, God knows how long ago. Probably anyone else who made it into a Vault was still alive, unless the other Vaults were also experiments. Was cryo part of all the Vaults? Lex supposed there would be no way to know for sure. It’s not like they knew where any of the other Vaults were located. Sure, maybe they could find out…but they had other priorities for the moment.

Lex’s thoughts halted when the path to Sanctuary Hills ended. The neighborhood was quiet; it would have been easy to imagine it as a sleepy autumn morning, if not for the way the houses stood like the skeletons of long-dead creatures. But no – it wasn’t all quiet. There. A faint sound, barely distinguishable from the wind. A sense of apprehension creeped up the back of Lex’s neck and their hand tightened on their gun. They weren’t alone.

Lex moved cautiously, crouching down next to one of the dilapidated houses and peering around the corner. A glint of shiny, silver metal down the street caught their attention. They were momentarily puzzled, and then the realization hit them; they straightened up and dropped their gun back to their side.

“Codsworth?” Lex called out as they approached.

“ _Lex?_ ” The robot turned around at the sound of their voice, all three of his eyes widening in recognition. “It’s– it’s really _you!_ ”

“It’s really me, buddy,” Lex said, smiling. They hadn’t thought that the first person they met out here would be somebody they _knew_ , let alone a member of their family. They resisted the temptation to hug the robot, who was retelling and lamenting his story of when they’d left – they had tried to hug him before and, well, it didn’t really work. Instead, Lex listened patiently. “Where is…anyone?” Lex asked when a moment presented itself.

“I’m afraid there’s really no one around. I came across a few sorry souls in Concord – not a very friendly bunch, mind you; they _shot_ at me,” Codsworth said with an offended huff. At least there were other humans still kicking; it meant that Lex’s chances of survival just got better, even if the others might be hostile.

“How long has it been then, since the bombs fell?” Lex had no idea how long it would have taken for the Earth to become livable again, but it probably didn’t take that long, right? Ten, twenty years, maybe fifty at the most?

There was a moment of pause. The tense, awkward silence before someone tells you something they don’t really know how to say, that you don’t really want to hear. Finally, Codsworth looked them in the eye and said, gently, “It’s been two hundred years. Well, almost two hundred and ten, really.”

 _Two hundred years?_ Lex felt like the breath had been punched out of them. _Two hundred years, that’s – that’s too long_. Their family, their friends – not like they had many of either – would all be dead, Vaults or no Vaults. That lost dog Lex and Cole were worried about, she wasn’t coming home. _Cole_. The loss started to wash over them, the way an incoming tide moves further and further up a beach. _Cole, lying dead underground for some part of two hundred years._ _In a place where they thought no one was supposed to die._

 _What’s the worst thing that you imagine could happen to you?_ Someone had asked once - some two-bit therapist for some mandatory psych eval. For some reason, Lex had answered honestly: _Losing my partner_.

And here Lex was, at the end of the world, without their partner. He was gone, one of the very, very few people Lex counted on, trusted, cared about. The one that Lex trusted the most. Someone who would’ve had their back till the apocalypse, and beyond it. Gone, and Lex realized they weren’t certain they could handle it.  

Maybe it was time to have that breakdown now.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Lord Huron's [ "Way Out There"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZq3n39gNo4)
> 
> I'm hoping to get this going on a weekly schedule; however, I've also got a creative project for my capstone class to do this month, and that's 75 hours of work that might cut into my writing time. So April might be a little touch-and-go for updates. Once May comes around I should (hopefully) have more time. 
> 
> Thanks to those who have left kudos and comments! I really appreciate you all :)


	3. It's (Not) The End of the World (I Feel Fine)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we're back, ladies, gentlemen, and otherwise identifying individuals.
> 
> Spring semester is officially over, and I should have time between a summer class and (hopefully) summer job to get this fic back on its regular schedule! Thank you all for your wonderful comments; you help keep me excited about writing this!! 
> 
> A bit longer of a chapter today. Afterwards, Lex is heading to Concord, and we can finally get the action rollin'!

It’s like this: you give yourself so much time to freak out. Get it out. Get it over with. Get back to work. That’s how you survive.

Lex normally gave themself a maximum of one minute to breakdown and worry about something. Today, they gave themself three. Extenuating circumstances and all that.

The Sole Survivor of Vault 111 ended up sitting down on the dead grass of the space that used to be their front-yard, face in their hands, drawing in gulping breaths to counteract the sobs that chased the panic out through their throat.  

Codsworth hovered nearby; close enough to offer support, far enough that he didn’t crowd. At one point Lex was dimly aware that he’d moved away, but by the time they felt his absence he was back again.

Time that was closer to five instead of three minutes ticked by, and the tight feeling in Lex’s chest eased, replaced by a dull, heavy stone. Another weight to carry. They lifted their face up from their hands. Wiped their nose on their sleeve and squinted in the sunlight. Took a deep breath.

They looked up at Codsworth to find that he was holding some canister out to them, and they took it with a quiet word of thanks, turning it in their hand and reading the label. Purified Water. They’d downed half the container before they thought to worry about rations.

“I’ve stored up quite a few of those,” Codsworth said, as if reading Lex’s thoughts. “37, to be precise. I know that it isn’t a stellar quantity, but I knew that when you came back, you would need something to drink.”

“Thank you, Codsworth,” Lex said, offering him a small smile of thanks that did nothing to express the full flood of gratitude that washed through their heart, warming them. They got to their feet; the world always seemed more manageable when one was upright. Another deep breath. Another sip of water.

“I…I admit that I am afraid to ask, but…where is your other half?” Codsworth bobbed in the air, and if he had been in the possession of humanoid arms, Lex imagined that he would be fidgeting with his fingers at that moment.

Lex fought against the ache of pain that threatened to be something sharper. “Cole didn’t make it,” they finally said, too tired to be angry at how their voice broke.

“Oh – Oh my.”

“He was murdered, Codsworth, _murdered_.” They chucked the empty water can to the side, heard but didn’t see it clatter against the pavement before it rolled away. “And I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.” Their palms stung as they clenched their hands into fists, fingernails digging into the skin.

“S-surely that’s not—he’s, he’s not really, oh _God_. I – I am so sorry. And the little one, is Shaun…?” Codsworth couldn’t say the words. Lex didn’t blame him; he’d grown so attached to that baby.

Lex shook their head. “Shaun was taken – alive,” they said. “Though by who or for what reason is anybody’s guess. You didn’t see anyone come out of the Vault, did you?” The sudden realization and hope that they might actually have a witness, fueled them with energy. Even though they had no idea how much time had passed between being put back into cryo and now.

Codsworth thought for a moment. “I’m afraid not,” he finally said.

“And those people in Concord, were they wearing odd clothing? Like, hazmat-suit odd?”

“Not that I recall; mind you, I was being shot at, at the time,” Codsworth said. Coming from anyone else Lex would’ve pinned the last part of what he said as sarcasm; however, Lex got the image of a bird smoothing down its ruffled feathers; if the people hadn’t managed to actually ding him with their bullets, they’d at least dinged his dignity and his sense of pride in the notion of a “civilized” world, where folks didn’t go around shooting at each other. “I’m terribly sorry that I’m not more help,” Codsworth lamented.

“No, no, Codsworth, you’ve been a great help,” Lex said, wanting to hug the spherical robot, trio of arms and slightly worrisome jet and all. “I’m glad to see you. I…when I came out of that Vault, I thought… I thought I wouldn’t have any family left.” Because he was family, truly, a part of the strange patchwork life they’d made in the suburb.

If Codsworth had a human face, Lex imagined that he would’ve turned red all the way to the tips of his ears from the way he stammered his way back to a coherent sentence. “You’re too kind,” He finally said, sounding incredibly pleased. “Despite these not being the best of circumstances, I am overjoyed that you are here. Now,” he said, jet whooshing in his equivalent of straightening up. “You must be starving. Two hundred years without a decent meal cannot be good for your health, I imagine.”

Lex had the furthest thing from an appetite, but Codsworth probably wasn’t wrong. Their body had gone through a shock that wasn’t just emotional. “Yeah, food would be great,” they said, following Codsworth through the doorway they’d stepped out of this morning, two centuries ago.  

The decent meal that Codsworth found turned out to be a box of Sugar Bombs. Lex sat on the kitchen counter, munching on dry handfuls – the lack of milk in and of itself wouldn’t bother them, but no milk meant no ice cream or cheese, and Lex would miss those. The sugary, likely more-than-slightly radioactive cereal probably wasn’t the healthiest option, but it was edible; it would take a lot more than starving after the apocalypse to get Lex to even think about touching a can of Cram.

Codsworth chatted on, carrying the conversation by himself as usual, talking about what happened in the neighborhood (very little aside from the decay), what the weather in the new world was like (very similar to that of the old, except apparently thunderstorms were now radioactive), and how he’d seen a stray dog the other day but hadn’t seen it since. Aside from dogs still being a thing that existed, there were a radroaches infesting some of the neighboring house – “None have infested here, of course,” Codsworth commented proudly – and Lex was dismayed that the giant bugs were not just a fluke of the Vault.

The Sugar Bombs box was empty at that point and Lex licked the last of the tangy dust from their fingers as they slid off the counter. The meal – if it could truthfully be called that – gave them a boost of energy; they swore they could feel it sparking in their gut. Sugar and radiation. A new combination for the new world.

Lex brushed their hands off on their legs, frowning at the blue of their Vault Suit. It offered moderate protection against the elements and the bugs – but it was _blue_. And gold. The stripe down their torso glittered in the light that filtered through the broken roof. They’d be a walking target against the beige landscape. And they were made of less sterner stuff than metal.

“Hey Codsworth,” Lex said, stretching as they looked around the dilapidated room that had once been their kitchen and living room. The robot turned towards them. “Do you know if there’s any clothes around? And…a backpack. I’m going to need a backpack.”

"I’m not entirely sure. It is possible that some garment or another is still kept in the drawers somewhere, but I’m afraid to say I can’t recall seeing a backpack.”

"I’ll look around,” Lex said. They started down the hallway.

The house had held up better than Lex would’ve expected after a nuclear blast and the passage of two centuries. Some items were right where they’d left them when they had run. It was, in a word, surreal. Their home and not their home, and _odd,_ Lex thought, _that I actually started to consider this place “home.”_ The realization sat awkwardly some place in their chest as they caught a glance of the faded and dirty rocket-ship print that was the rug in the room that had been Shaun’s. Lex ignored that room.

They stepped into the bedroom instead. Well, what used to be the bedroom; the now-ratty mattresses of the two twin beds lay on the rot-eaten boards of what once were bed-frames. The windows were busted out, and their departure seemed to have taken a good portion of the wall with them. A dresser leaned in its corner, one of its legs snapped and a good majority of the drawer knobs missing.

Lex gripped one of the remaining knobs and tugged. The small wooden disc broke off in their hand. _Of course_. They set it atop the dresser.

“Guess we’ll do this the hard way,” Lex mumbled to themself, wedging their fingers into the small gaps on the sides of the drawers. The old wood creaked in progress when they pulled. The drawer opened in starts and stops, barely an inch. Lex put one foot on the dresser for leverage and _pushed_. A snap, and the drawer slid free; Lex suddenly had to fight to keep it from falling out onto the floor.

The contents were sparse, perhaps scavenged during the times Codsworth ventured away. Some loose change, a legal pad that had somehow yellowed even more over time. Something that might’ve been lint, or rodent droppings, or something else that Lex had no desire to touch. A half-used tube of Wonderglue. The last item might come in handy, but until they had a bag to carry in it was best to leave it. _Goddamn suit doesn’t even have pockets_.

The next drawer put up a similar fight, and contained nothing but a leather chord and a sock that was more hole than garment. The chord was soft and worn, but it seemed sturdy. Lex slipped off the silver ring that was too big for their own fingers and threaded the chord through it. One knot to keep the ring from sliding. Another knot to keep it around their neck. Their ring still rested snugly on their finger, and it took a little bit of tugging and wiggling to remove it. The metal sparkled in their palm as they held it. It weighed very little. Like it wasn’t even there. Lex slid the ring into the sock and pushed it to the very back of the drawer before working it closed.

There were no clothes to be found in the rest of the drawers. The other, smaller dresser contained similar junk as the first, and the closet had collapsed. Maybe they’d find something in one of the other houses — wait.

A memory, as Lex stood facing the beds. Maybe… Just maybe. Lex flipped over the mattress that had been theirs. Nothing. Lex sighed. _Well, it’s not a great loss_ , they thought as they moved to the other mattress.

This time, they found what they were looking for. They knelt beside the beige suitcase and… It was locked. Lex cursed under their breath. They considered getting their gun and shooting the lock – but wait, didn’t they see a bobby pin in one of the drawers?

Lex turned back to dresser, tugging the drawer open again, murmuring, “Come on you little— There we go,” they said when it came open. They grabbed the bobby pin and moved back to the suitcase. A _click_ and the lid popped open. “Jackpot,” Lex said. Cole’s spare button-up shirt, pants, and a belt were folded inside, protected from time and the elements. Lex put the shirt on over the Vault Suit, leaving it unbuttoned for now. There was little else inside the suitcase aside from the clothes; it had been deliberately packed light, with only the essentials: a change of clothes, passports, other various documents. It’d been packed even before the whispers of bombs had come through the suburban air. Lex’s suitcase – now gone – would’ve contained similar items.

Something heavy dropped out of the folds of the pants when Lex lifted them out. A picture frame, fallen on its face. Lex set the pants aside and picked it up. Behind the glass, preserved for 210 years, was a photograph.

\--

_"Hey, hey – let’s take a picture!”_

_"A picture?”_

_“You know, a photograph.”_

_“I know what a ‘picture’ is, Cole.” Lex had their arms crossed over their pastel-blue shirt. They weren’t as irritated with Cole as they were with their surroundings – a few other people, some with children who were running around with a rainbow of balloons, were also gathered in the green and sunshine of the park. Lex kept fighting the urge to look over their shoulder._

_"Relax, pal,” Cole said. He patted the plaid blanket he was sitting on._

_Lex tensed. “You shouldn’t call me that,” they said as they grudgingly took a seat. Cole was already pulling out the camera. “It’s probably not proper for a ‘married couple.’”_

_"Like anyone’s close enough to hear us,” Cole said. He paused, however, setting the camera down in front of himself. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know…this hasn’t been exactly easy. And I’ve probably adapted a little more quickly—” A loud_ bang! _and Cole started, hand reaching down to his hip, eyes wide and alert. He found the source as quickly as Lex had_ – _one of the children’s balloons had popped when it hit the grass – and took a deep breath, closing his eyes._

_"You were saying?” Lex elbowed his arm, their own heart still beating action-quick in their chest._

_“Yeah, yeah. I know. But my point is, you’re not in this alone.” He looked at Lex then, green eyes understanding and bright in the spring sunlight. And some part of Lex’s tension had eased, even as they shied away from a heart-to-heart._

_Lex reached for the camera. “We gonna take a picture or not?”_

\--

Lex’s smile had ended up genuine. Even though they looked out of place, bleached hair on its way to growing out, tucked behind their ears. Their field of freckles had started to become more pronounced, and the blue of the shirt complimented their eyes. Cole looked like Cole – a smile that reached his sparkling green eyes, a freckle here and there on his cheek. His dark brown hair was slightly tousled by the wind, bangs swept aside enough to see the small scar on his left eyebrow. A good picture.

Lex’s fingertips rested lightly on the glass above Cole’s image. He looked alive. Happy. Lex knew that, in the end, he’d really adapted better than they had. Probably would’ve adapted well to Vault life, too, if it hadn’t turned out to be a frozen death trap. The reminder heated Lex’s blood, a line of fire coiling along the heavy ice of grief.

Cole was murdered. Meaning, a man held a gun in his hand and squeezed his finger on the trigger.

They just had to find him.

And then they could kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a slightly edited version of REM's "It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)" 
> 
> If you want, you can come hang out with me on tumblr, over [here](http://theslightlytoxicshrub.tumblr.com).


	4. Mama Never Told 'em There's a Devil in Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been 84 years

It was under the guise of his safety and having someone to guard the house that Lex left Codsworth behind as they walked down the road to Concord the next morning. And, certainly, those were two incredibly important things that Lex wanted; it wasn’t a complete lie when Lex told Codsworth to stay put, slipping the backpack they’d scavenged yesterday from one of the houses over their shoulders and checking their gun.  

“Are you quite sure?” He had asked, hovering nervously. “I mean no offense, of course, but I’m not entirely sure that your, erm…background…has thoroughly prepared you for the violent world in which you have awoken.”

 _If you only knew_ , Lex thought, a little ways from Sanctuary Hills now, squinting up at the sun to check the time before stepping around the rusted shell of a car. _“Lawyer.”_ Lex shook their head, recalling a frequent daydream: them, a professional in court, respectable, earning an honest living – or as honest as lawyers got, anyways. Trying to use _words_ to work the situation out in their favor. Lex smiled to themself. That daydream usually ended with them punching the opposing lawyer in the face, their trigger-finger itching.

Sure, they had a quick wit and a sharp tongue and more than a fair share of charisma at their disposal, but Lex had done their job and they’d done it _well_ , and their job wasn’t to talk to—

A loud _buzzzz_ and Lex snapped from their thoughts to the gigantic mosquito barreling straight towards them, a proboscis that looked long and sharp enough to impale them clean through.

“What the fuck!” Lex hit the ground, landing to the side of the road in the dead grass. Their eyes widened as the bug dove; they rolled over and onto their back again. It missed and stabbed the dirt. Lex lifted their gun and fired off one—two–three shots into its grotesque head. Its body dropped to the ground with a considerable thud. “What the fuck,” Lex repeated, breathless, heart pounding with adrenaline, gun arm still raised. “Fuck you.” They remained on their back for a moment, their breathing returning to a normal rate, before sitting up fully. Their scanned the area as they climbed to their feet. _You got rusty, kiddo._ Over a year in suburbia will do that to a person, Lex supposed. _Keep your head on a swivel and kill before you get killed._  

They brushed the dirt off their pants. Concord was just ahead. It was still standing, somehow, and it made Lex wonder if life had tried to go on after the bombs dropped. What that must have been like, in those last days. They wondered at the fact that they were the only person left who remembered firsthand how the world had been.

It was almost eerie, the way the buildings stood after their abandonment by their inhabitants, the cars like rusted skeletons littering the streets. The occasional actual skeleton lying, sprawled, against the crumbling street curb, scraps of their clothes still clinging to their frames. Those who had survived the initial blast would’ve fled the city – sewage, power, water, all would’ve vanished in a few days as modern civilization ground to halt. There would have been no time for burials.

Lex peered into broken shop windows, making mental notes about good scavenging opportunities. It wasn’t as picked clean as they expected. Which was good, until their thoughts drifted towards wondering _why_ so much seemed untouched and left for the taking.

The unmistakable sound of gunfire erupted further up ahead, echoing down the empty street, through the hollow buildings. Lex crouched down, moving forwards to a place where the street forked, and sidled up to a wall. They glanced around the corner towards what they remembered as Main Street in time to see someone run down the street with a gun. A familiar, dark _caw_ sounded out _,_ and Lex looked up to see crows sitting on the roofs. _Insects, people, birds. The apocalypse is populated with none of my favorite things_ , Lex thought, eyes drawn towards a balconied building right on the corner of Main Street. A good vantage point, if they could get to it.

They’d opted to continue wearing the Vault Suit under Cole’s clothes. In the short time Lex had been aboveground, it had proven sturdy and dependable. Probably couldn’t ask for anything better. It fit Lex like a second-skin, and they shuddered to think that Vault-Tec had gotten their measurements before they’d even known they were agreeing to go down there.

But the suit likely wasn’t bulletproof. _There’s the rub_ , Lex thought. Although the fight was happening on the far end of Main, there was a good chance they’d be spotted, and – friend or foe – it wasn’t a good idea to show up unannounced to a firefight. They’d have to circle around.

Lex turned back and slipped through a space that opened up into a small park, and crossed behind buildings to another street. They quickly made their way to their target building, pressing up against the side and crouching forwards, pistol at the ready. No back access, and the windows were still edged with broken glass. They vaulted over the railing and slipped through the doorway without being spotted. _Whew. Phase One: complete._

The upper floor was crumbling, and Lex listened to the wood creak beneath their feet. But it held all the way to the balcony, where they crouched down and looked out onto the street.

There were about eight people – that they could see, anyways – firing their weapons down the street. If Lex remembered correctly, there was a museum there. _What are they shooting at?_

The answer came in a bright red laser, which shot across the street from the direction of the museum. _Ohhkay then_ , Lex thought. _Who’s the good guy, and who’s the bad guy? Twenty dollars says the freaks with the sacks on their heads aren’t upstanding citizens._ There was only one laser that fired intermittently, meaning whoever it was up against these guys alone. That wasn’t exactly fair.

Except it wasn’t Lex’s fight. They’d completed their mission: see what’s going on in Concord. And they’d seen it. It wasn’t something they cared to be a part of. A pistol with sparse ammo and two layers of clothing were hardly armaments for a fight like this, and two to at least eight people wasn’t an improvement as far as odds went.

Lex moved back to turn around. The balcony floor screeched in protest and _snap!_ went a floorboard. Lex jumped back, cursing under their breath. The board, not done complaining, clattered against the ground below.

“What was that?” Someone called out. “Hey! There’s someone up there!” She turned her gun towards Lex and started firing.

 _Shit, fuck._ Lex returned a shot, backing up to the doorway for some cover. It missed, sparking off the truck their attacker was crouching behind. _Only got so many bullets in a clip – make them count._

Lex got down on their stomach and peeked over the side of the balcony, ready to fire. _Where did she go?_ Then they heard footsteps down below and they scooted back, sliding against the wall of the upper floor.

"Come out here and fight!” The woman called. But she was coming up the stairs. Lex could’ve laughed, but that would’ve given away their position. She was almost at the top of the stairs, and Lex raised their weapon. _Good job. Walk right around the blind corner._ “There—”      

A single gunshot, and blood bloomed between her collarbones; she staggered, whatever she was going to say cut off in a surprised cough. She went down, wheezing through her last breaths. Lex stepped over to her, kicked her gun out of her weakening hand. It was a weird gun, almost like something a child would make; carved out of wood and junk. Lex picked it up, turned it over. Pointed it downwards and squeezed the trigger, half-expecting it to break apart.

It didn’t. Lex raised their eyebrows at the red-splattered mess of blood against the floor and wall. “Huh. Guess that works.” They shrugged, pulled out the magazine, and tossed the weapon back down.   

The gunshots – and the occasional, whir-crack of the laser – continued outside and Lex left the body and headed down the stairs. They ducked back instantly, wood and drywall spraying into the air as another assailant – this time a man with a bandana over his mouth – fired into the building.

The broken wood of the steps bit into Lex’s back as they leaned back, blinking away the dust as bullets cut through the wall, inches above them. The gunfire cut off – possibly reloading, possible that he thought Lex might’ve been hit. Lex used the opportunity to spring back on their feet, leaning around the corner and returning fire. He went down with a cry, and stilled.

Lex reloaded on the way to the door. _Current exit plan: I dunno. Make it out alive._ They stopped at the doorway and leaned around, careful not to expose too much of their body. The fighting was contained to the far end of the street now, but one of the people had noticed their comrades’ disappearances, and was pointing in Lex’s direction.

The buzz was stirring in Lex’s blood now, a familiar, zing-and-zip sensation that, by God, they’d _missed_.

 _Alright,_ they thought, taking a deep breath. _Let’s do this_.

\--

Lex crouched behind the rusted shell of a truck, listening to bullets pinging on the other side. The laser still sounded off intermittently – Lex and whoever was firing it had caught the remaining scavengers, bandits, whatever-they-were-called in between them, and the fight had gone as smoothly as one could hope. Lex popped up as soon as the hail of gunfire ended, firing and catching the shooter in the arm. He staggered, and then the laser caught him in the back and he went down and stayed down.

Footsteps, and then a rage-filled scream, and Lex spun around – took in the blur of beige and brown, the sharp glint of sunshine on metal, a whiff of something like blood and gasoline – raised an arm too late to block the downward stab of the knife, and gritted their teeth at the hot-brand bite of metal in their shoulder.

“F- _fuck_ you,” Lex sputtered, and their attacker laughed as Lex stumbled back, stunned and thrown off-balance from the pain – _when was the last time I got stabbed?_ The knife was let go of. Lex’s gun was still held in their hand, remembered but shocked useless. Lex moved, too slow again, as a fist collided with their face; they reeled back, felt warmth run down their cheek and they knew their skin had split; there would be a nice bruise in a short while.

If they lived that long.

Their feet were kicked out from under them. Lex fell to the ground, the breath whooshing out of them as their back cracked on the pavement. _Bravo. Didn’t even make it a full 24 hours._ They might’ve laughed, if they’d had the air for it. They lifted their head to stare down the barrel of a gun. _Sorry, Cole._

The blue sky above split in an arc of red light. Lex’s attacker barely had time to look up and give a short cry that evaporated along with his physical form. Lex stared at the ground as they slowly sat up on their elbows. He’d literally disintegrated; a pile of red ash replaced where he’d been standing on the pavement. Small, glowing flakes shimmered in the air.

The street was quiet now, and Lex twisted their head to look at the knife still in their shoulder. A small thing, really – a switchblade. They grasped the handle and pulled, pressing their lips together and wincing at the pain and the blood that followed the knife’s exit. Lex used it to cut a sizable chunk from the hem of Cole’s shirt, wadding it up. They quickly unzipped their skin-tight Vault suit – _small miracles_ – and pressed the fabric over the wound. _That’ll do, kid. That’ll do_.

They re-zipped their suit and climbed to their feet, and then turned to face the person on the balcony, raising a hand in gratitude. They coughed, cringing at the ache in their lungs and shoulder.

“Hey! You!” A voice called out and Lex looked up at the man on the balcony. “I’ve got people trapped up here, and more Raiders inside. Pick up that laser musket and help us! Please!”

 _A laser what?_ Lex looked around and— there. A gun rested a little ways from a body. Odd-looking weapon, comprised of what seemed to be a glass cylinder, metal, and some kind of tech that must’ve been the laser part. Bulky, and looked like it was powered by some kind of crankshaft. “I’ll keep my own gun, thanks—” Lex looked up to see the door swinging closed.

They looked down the street, both ways. It was quiet; no evidence that a fight was going on from out here. Plenty to scavenge, from bodies, from the surrounding buildings. And from where Lex was standing, they had no idea how many people were inside, or even what kind of people they’d ended up helping. Could be they’d get shot by either party. End up being the scavenged.

Lex turned to go.

They took four steps before they stopped. Closed their eyes as they sighed through their nose, dropping their head. Took a deep breath and looked over their shoulder at the vacant balcony. He’d saved their life.

 _Don’t be a hero, kid,_ they thought, even as they opened the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title song from The Strumbella's "[Shovels & Dirt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=blnHBfoYBT4)."
> 
> Join me on [tumblr](http://theslightlytoxicshrub.tumblr.com/) for updates and general ramblings.


	5. I Want No Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Fall (and final!!) semester begins on Monday, and so I don't know how much time I'm going to have to spare for this. I rearranged my goals for this fic (originally a weekly schedule, which, obviously, never happened) to updating it at least once a month. And I will do my best to endeavor to stick to that :) However, it also looks like I'll be writing something of a novella for a final project this semester. So. We'll see. 
> 
> As always, I appreciate your comments, kudos, and general presence as a reader!

Lex was blood-spattered and bleeding by the time they reached where the laser-man and his people were holed up. They rapped their knuckles on the door and winced; they’d forgotten about the broken skin from slinging more than one punch. “Hey!” They called. “Open up!” _And please don’t shoot me_.

There was the sound of a large, heavy object being pushed across the floor. Lex’s braced themself, stance loose but readied. Prepared for it to go either way. The lock clicked, and the door swung open. Lex tensed and then relaxed when they saw the man from the balcony. He mirrored their reaction before his face brightened into something approaching a smile.

“I don’t know who you are,” he said, welcoming them into the small office. “But your timing is impeccable. Thank you.” His voice was that of weary gratitude; strained, but warm. The kind of voice good people had. He held out a hand. “Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen.”

Lex slipped their gun into their looted holster and shook his hand. “Lex. Just Lex.” They looked around the room; a man was typing at the computer to their right, and a small group of people huddled to their left. To say that they had all been outnumbered was a vast understatement; with the exception of Preston and maybe the man at the terminal, none of them exactly looked like they could hold their own in a fight. “Who were those people?” Lex asked, turning their attention back to Preston.

“Raiders,” Preston said, as if that explained everything. “I don’t think they were part of any particular group; we expected trouble after the ghouls drove us out of Lexington, but not this much of it.”

“Ghouls? What are ghouls?” Lex asked before they could stop themself. Raiders was an easy descriptor to work out from context and recent experience – common criminal scum intent on gutting you and taking your stuff – but “ghoul” was more ambiguous. Lex was torn between not revealing themself as a newcomer and not having information that would keep them alive.

Preston’s eyes widened in surprise and confusion. “You’ve never heard of ghouls?” He asked when he realized they were serious. He looked them over, dark eyes settling on their neck, and his expression melted into one of understanding; Lex raised their hand and felt the stiff collar of their Vault suit sticking out. The understanding only lasted for a moment, however. “You’re a Vault Dweller? But you fight like…” Preston trailed off. He exchanged a look with the man at the computer, who shrugged. There was a subtle horror in his eyes; Lex put two and two together and came away with the assumption that if someone was from a Vault, then they weren’t skilled at combat; it was possible, then, that Lex had killed such a someone and looted their outfit. Amongst the other possibilities, however, was that Lex had simply scavenged the suit, or that they really had come from a Vault and that they were just good at fighting. Certainly there’d been military Vaults, somewhere.

Preston seemed to prefer one of the alternative explanations, and pressed no further. “Ghouls are…irradiated people; most of them are just like you and me. Just people. But the others, the ones I’m talking about – ferals – they’re… The radiation has rotted their brain, driven them mad. They don’t look like much, but when they swarm they can tear a person to shreds in a matter of seconds.” He fell quiet, a haunted look settling over his face.

“Ah,” Lex said, unsure of what else to say.  “I see.” _Good to know._ They glanced around the room again. “Is, um.” They cleared their throat. “Is this all of you?”

“Yes. We started out in Quincy. There were twenty of us then. Yesterday, there were eight. Today, well... the five of us are all that’s left. We thought Concord would be a good place to settle, but the Raiders proved us wrong. Now, we’re trying to make it to Sanctuary.”

Lex’s eyes traced the scar running down Preston’s cheek, the darkness of the circles under his eyes. “Well, you’re close, at least. And the way is clear.”                            

“Oh – are you from Sanctuary? I wasn’t aware that there were already settlers there.”

“There aren’t. Um. I mean, it’s just me. And Codsworth,” Lex added.

“You’re quite an interesting character,” Preston said, and Lex wasn’t sure if that was a positive assessment. He didn’t seem too put off by them, however. He’d _really_ seen and been through some hard shit if he was looking at Lex like some kind of a savior in the nick of time. In any case, Preston didn’t seem to want to ask more questions, and Lex thought it fair to assess that he wasn’t naïve. Just desperate. “We should move out,” he said, addressing his group before turning back to Lex. “You’re more than welcome—”

A loud crash. Glass shattering. Preston and Lex reached for their guns. The man by the desk covered his head with his hands and the pacing woman flinched; the elderly woman, however, remained sitting in an almost eerie calm that, in any other situation Lex might’ve called _peace_.

“That was outside,” Lex said, moving across the room, Preston following behind. They opened the door and flinched back when they were met with a wave of crackling heat. Not a lot, but enough that they couldn’t see past it down to the street. “Oh. Great,” Lex said. “It’s on fire.” They fumbled with the door in their haste to close it, to get away from the burning balcony railing.

Preston laughed, and Lex looked over at him in surprise. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just the way you said that.” He laughed again – a wheezing, tired, at-the-end-of-one’s-rope sound. “Of course it’s on fire.”

Lex couldn’t help but laugh with him. “I guess this means they have reinforcements.” It was funny in that particular way when something so baldly _not_ funny, somehow was. They were becoming increasingly aware of their body’s aches and pains. The stab wound in their shoulder throbbed. The prospect of fighting again, now, so soon after finding a bit of reprieve, was wearisome; the zinging bloodlust in their veins was long cooled. Their last chuckle ended in a sigh. Lex lifted their hand to rub their face, but was halted by pain, wincing as the motion pulled at their injury.

"You’re hurt?” Preston said before Lex could get a word in about what to do next.

Lex shrugged – _bad idea bad idea._ “It’s just a flesh wound. I can manage.” Preston looked like he wanted to argue or something.  “Got an exit plan?” They asked before he could.

“Sturges?” Preston said, turning to the man at the computer. “Tell ‘em.”

Sturges grinned as he faced Lex. “There’s an old Vertibird up on the roof – Prewar. You might’ve seen it. Well, one of the unlucky final passengers left behind a serious goodie. I’m talkin’ a full suit of cherry, T-45 Power Armor. Military issue.” 

“Power armor?” Lex resisted the urge to rub their hand across their face again.

“Are you familiar with it?” Preston asked.

“Yeah. Impressive tech, if you’ve got no taste for finesse. Or taste, period.”

Sturges’ expression went from pleased to barely concealed offense. Preston looked like he was biting back a genuine laugh. Lex meant every word. Power Armor was big, clunky, and _loud_ , and the pilots were always, without exception, complete assholes. But most importantly, there was absolutely no degree of stealth that one could employ while encased in an obnoxious, clattering, tin can. It always screamed “Hey, I’m over here! Look at me!” and, Lex figured, that’s why the assholes wore it.

“Look,” Lex said. “We’ve got a better shot at fixing that vertibird and flying out of here than we do me successfully piloting that armor.” They shook their head. “Any of you got a sniper rifle?”

“There’s _at least_ a dozen more Raiders out there,” Preston said. “Probably more.” 

“So?” Lex crossed their arms and Preston raised his eyebrows. “I’ll grant that the angle and cover’s probably not ideal, but if you’ve got something long-distance I’ll have that street cleared in no time.”

“You some kind of merc?” Preston asked. Then he shook his head. “Never mind,” he said, holding up a hand. “Maybe…don’t answer that. All we’ve got is my gun, and a few pipe pistols between all of us.”

Lex looked at the little group of survivors. The old woman still sat calmly on the couch. The man who’d covered his head with his hands at the crash of the Molotov hadn’t uncovered it. And the pacing woman glared at Lex with a suspicion they understood all too well.

“There’s also a minigun up on that roof, and you’d need to be wearing that armor to use it,” Sturges said, crossing muscular arms in front of his chest.

Lex’s pride stung at that, and they started to bristle towards their full height. All five feet and barely five inches of it, they remembered, and exhaled a small sigh. They’d never been able to lift a minigun on their own before – on the rare occasion they’d even _tried_ – and there was no way they’d be able to miraculously lift one now, especially with that shoulder. Even if a minigun felt like cheating, it was the quickest way out. And, in any case, they were low on ammo in their own weapon.

“Alright, fine.” Lex said, briefly glancing over the tattered Join or Die poster on the back wall before meeting Sturges’ eyes. “Power Armor it is, then.”

“Excellent,” Preston said.

“Only there’s one issue,” Sturges said. _Of course there is,_ Lex thought, as Sturges continued with, “Suit’s all out of juice; reckon it’s probably been that way for over a hundred years.”

“Makes sense,” Lex said. “Even fusion cores run out of power eventually.”  

“Right on,” Sturges said. “Now, we can get it powered up again but…we’re a bit stuck.”

“Tell me, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“As you know, you’ll need a standard FC. A fusion core,” Preston explained. “Luckily, we know where to find one. It’s running in the basement of this place.”

“We get that baby plugged into the suit, we got the whole shebang and we’re all home free as you please,” Sturges said, then hesitated. “Trouble is, we can’t get to the damn thing. Locked tight behind a security gate.” Sturges frowned, uncrossing his arms. “Look. I fix stuff. I tinker. Bypassing security ain’t exactly my forte, and I don’t fancy being locked out of a terminal too.”

“I can handle the terminal, no problem,” Lex said, relaxing slightly. Finally something in their element that didn’t involve getting bloody.

“Maybe our luck is finally turning around,” Preston smiled, and Lex was briefly concerned that he was going to cry and they shifted uncomfortably. “Once you plug that fusion core in, grab that minigun and let those Raiders know they picked the wrong fight.” He clenched his fist, tired expression hardening.

Lex grinned. “Gladly.”                  

\--

The security system cracked like an eggshell underneath Lex’s fingers. A flare of pride shot through their chest as the lock clicked open. _Still got it_. They smiled to themself as they pulled the door open.

Granted, it had been an easy hack, but hey. It had been a while.  

 _200 years,_ some soft, sad part of their mind whispered, and they shoved it away.

The generator hummed as it held the fusion core in its slot, a glowing ring around it to indicate its viability. Lex had handled fusion cores even less than they’d handled Power Armor; that is to say, they’d never done it, let alone remove one from a running generator. Their eyes skimmed the machine, taking in and blinking at the various dials and buttons that did…something. Beneath some were tiny scripts and symbols – most prominent was the one that looked like a warning against flaming death. Well, flames and electricity. And was that…some kind of explosion? _Psh, what are the chances of that happening?_ Lex drummed their fingers against their leg. _And I mean, really, is it too much to ask for a big “Eject” button?_

 _Aw, fuck it,_ Lex thought and grabbed the core. For a moment, it didn’t budge, and then, with a slight twist, like the sword sliding magically from stone, it came out. It was hot, which was, in hindsight, to be expected, and Lex juggled cursing and the core. But they had it, and soon they had it held in a hand they’d wrapped in the sleeve of their shirt.

They climbed back up the broken, creaking stairs, keeping their ears strained for any sounds from the front door – though anyone with common sense should know not to charge through there, with no knowledge of what was on the other side, without the high ground. _What’s that say about you?_

Lex held up the fusion core in triumph when they saw Preston standing in the doorway. He gave a small smile in return, an expression mostly limited to his eyes. Sturges gave them two thumbs up; apparently he’d forgiven them for their anti-Power Armor comments from before.

“The suit is this way,” Preston said, and Lex followed him to the other end of the office. The old woman looked up at Lex with eyes like melted ice-water, reddish-rimmed but not from crying. There was a glint in those eyes, and whatever greeting Lex intended to speak died in their throat; that spark was something sharp, something fire, something _knowing_. Lex swallowed, focused their eyes on the back of Preston’s collar.

Then they were standing in front of an unassuming brown door, one that would lead them to the roof, and to the suit of Power Armor. A prickling of unease crept up along their back. _Once. It only happened once. It won’t be like that, and it’s only just this one time._

“Hey, Lex.” Their eyes flew open at the sound of their name. They didn’t remember closing them. Preston. He was looking at them, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” Lex didn’t force themself to smile, but they did force themself to grab the doorknob, to push the door open and to step outside. Sturges wasn’t kidding; there truly was an old, pre-war Vertibird crashed on the roof. Although, it was less of the roof and more of the ceiling, and the wall. Lex wasn’t sure what function this room had served before, but it was open and exposed now. Someone – maybe Sturges, maybe some unknown drifter or raider – seemed to have been using the space as a small workshop. A roll of duct tape, a screwdriver, and some good ol’ Wonderglue all sat on an old desk.

All pretty useless tools for the weather and time worn – but surely no less powerful for that wear – suit standing in the center of the room. Useless without the softly humming core in Lex’s hand. They glanced back at Preston, noted how he wasn’t quite still, how he shifted from foot to foot in the doorway. Subtle, but there. He was trying not to make it obvious, but his body strained, the tension suggesting that he fought the urge to keep looking over his shoulder, back towards where his group huddled.

That tension broke when Lex said, “Okay, I’ve got it from here.”

Preston nodded, but then he lingered. “Are you s—”

Lex cut him off with a wave of the fusion core. “Go get your people ready.”

This time when he nodded, he turned and strode off down the hall. Lex let out a breath as they returned their attention to the armor. Big. Bulky. Awkward and ugly. And that was just the outside.

The fusion core locked in easily, but the wound in Lex’s shoulder shrieked in pain as they strained to turn the wheel. They grit their teeth. Bore it. And finally the wheel gave in, and it turned. The armor unfolded with a series of pops and hisses. Lex didn’t even have time to prepare themself when their brain helpfully said, _Hope there’s not a dead guy in there_. But the only thing that tumbled out of the old suit was a faint, musty smell and a whiff of ancient sweat.

Outside – or rather, inside, given the iffy structural composure of the room – the sun was shining, and the sky was blue. It was quiet, and the only indication of danger was the scent of burnt wood on the light breeze. Lex took a deep breath. Braced themself. Then, in a motion as swift as they could – _get it over with get it over with –_ they slipped themself inside.

The metal backing slid shut behind them automatically, clicking and hissing into place. Sealing them in. Lex squeezed their eyes shut. Focused on breathing. _One. Two. Three. Four. Five._

The world was tinged in orange when Lex opened their eyes. Data blinked on the screen. Various status indicators lit up amid other information Lex couldn’t immediately decipher. The read-out on the corner of screen indicated that the suit was in decent condition, at least. They’d have to watch that left arm, however. Everything else appeared to be in order. They took a step and pushed through a wave of nausea. Another two steps, and it receded, though the disoriented dizziness didn’t. Lex swallowed around a dry throat. The suit wasn’t designed to their measurements; the previous owner had been a good couple of inches taller than them, with noticeably longer arms. But it was the delay in movement that threw Lex off the most; a delayed reaction time was fatal outside of a veritable walking fortress of metal, but their brain wasn’t convinced that that was where Lex was.

They ripped the minigun off its mount with ease. Someone shouted, and the sound came through the speakers tinny and slightly garbled. Sensors probably hadn’t been calibrated in, well, centuries. A _ping!_ and the slightest registration of impact, and Lex looked up to see a raider on the roof of the opposite building, firing their weapon at Lex. They got off a few more hits before Lex had the minigun aimed. _Short, controlled bursts!_ Some memory shouted.

Lex pretended they’d followed that voice’s instructions when they finally managed to hit the raider with a spray of bullets. The sound of heavy gunfire drew the attention of those in the street, and more distorted shouts and bullets made their way to Lex. Safe in their shell and at a vantage point, they counted their opponents: _one, two three…five, six—_

A great, metallic, creaking groan. The ground trembled beneath Lex’s metal-clad feet. _Oh fuck m—_ Lex barely had time to coordinate their hulking bulk of a body to lean back, could do nothing to brace or right themself or flee, as the aircraft slipped out of its perch, tipped by the weight.

The final flight of the Vertibird was short-lived and devoid of grace.

It peeled away from the building with a shriek of protesting metal and the duller, dense sound of crumbling brick beneath it. It reached its inevitable end in seconds, crumbling the already cracked asphalt under its weight, and, then, with a final, groaning shudder, went still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title brought to you by Imagine Dragons' "[Trouble](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4l5SLs5u8A&ab_channel=MusicLyrics-ImagineDragons)."
> 
> As always, you can find me on [tumblr](http://theslightlytoxicshrub.tumblr.com/).


	6. I Want No Trouble (Reprise)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School is busy busy busy. This'll probably be the last update until after I graduate this December. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading :)

The world was dark.

It was dark and they couldn’t feel their legs.

Or arms.

Or anything.

There was a great clunk when they reached a hand up to their head. Their eyes flew open, and the world was orange.

 _Right,_ Lex said, remembering and tilting their head back to look at the clear sky, which wasn’t so much blue as it was brown. You could fall a mile in a suit like this and keep walking. As long as you weren’t crushed by a fallen Vertibird.

And Lex wasn’t; the aircraft had landed on its side, with Lex safely intact in the center. The minigun had survived the short fall as well. The suit pulled its own weight up easily, pulling the minigun up with it. Lex landed with a thud on the other side of the Vertibird. Face-to-face with a group of raiders.

“Oh fuck they’re alive!” One shouted as they all scrambled to cover. Some made it. Others did not.

Lex made their way down the main street, and the upper hand wasn’t something they gained as much as it was a guarantee, something simply handed to them on a shiny silver platter. Or, rather, on a dinged up powerhouse of equipment.

Lex caught the bright, smoking arc of the Molotov only moments before it shattered against them, igniting on contact. They froze, their breathing coming in too short, too choppy gasps that weren’t compatible with combat. They waited to feel the sear of the heat, smell the reek of burning flesh.   

It never came. The suit’s ancient cooling system kicked on, making a strangled sound that meant that system was definitely worse for the wear. A few indicator lights blinked on and off on the view-screen. Lex ignored them, forced themself to ignore the flames as they died down.

The rest of the fight was loud, messy, and Lex dove behind one of the remaining sandbag walls as a grenade bounced off the street and rolled towards them. Its explosion sent chunks of asphalt flying. Lex fired in the direction from which it had been thrown, the barrel of the minigun red and hot. Someone cried out, another person yelled. Lex felt wearier than they thought they should.  

Another explosion shook the ground. They felt it reverberate through the metal covering their feet. Then another. But there was no smoke, no shrapnel. They turned to face the north end of the street and was met with a spray of bullets.

Lex shoved aside the confusion of _what blew up?_ and readied their weapon, the barrel spinning with a whir. The raider who’d fired was already diving for cover behind an upturned car.

He never made it.

The street exploded.

He went down. Rolled over onto his back. Fought to stand, gun raised.

Not at Lex. No.

The spark and echo of rapid gunfire was barely audible above the roar of the beast that clawed its way out from under the street. The raider stumbled back in panic, tripping over the broken pavement, gun clicking now, empty.

It charged. He screamed for as long as he survived. A high, desperate, bloodcurdling sound. Its claws slashed through him like he wasn’t even there. The street was red.

It stood at least ten feet tall, all rippling muscle and scales. Horns, spikes, teeth. Lex’s brain catalogued the features while their body remained frozen. And those claws. They gleamed crimson in the afternoon sun.

Its nostrils flared. Its sharp black eyes locked on Lex. It burst into a run with a roar, zig-zagging down the street. Lex blinked and snapped into motion; the minigun whirred with urgency, firing as the beast sprinted at Lex. It roared again, in pain, bullet holes peppering its softer underbelly. But it kept coming, barreling into them, the heavy suit, sending them skidding back, heels digging into broken pavement.

Lex held their ground for long enough to get in a few more shots – _aim for the head, goddammit!_ – before it slammed itself against them, clawed hands reaching and grabbing and managing to _pick them up._ Airborne. Wood snapped and splintered around them as they crashed through the museum’s front doors.

Lex’s heart pounded in their ears as they lay on their back. Something had finally quit in the suit. They couldn’t move the legs. Somehow, though, they were still holding onto the minigun. Only God knew if it even worked, and fuck it, God was long dead. The creature growled, still outside on the street, and Lex wondered how long it would take for it to peel them out of their metal shell and eat them. Because that seemed to be where all this was headed. It would eat them and then eventually it would leave, and Preston and his group could move out.

Its entire body coiled tight, like a spring, like a cat, like the whip-snap end of a particularly bad nightmare. It leapt. It was all claws and teeth and blood. Lex’s arm moved too slow to lift the gun.

And then it stopped, claws swiping at the empty air. Lex could’ve laughed, but all their energy was directed towards sitting up fully, pushing back the shriek of wounds and bruises, aiming the minigun at the brute’s head as it roared again. It couldn’t fit its hulk of a body through the doorway. At least, not yet.

The dusty protests of the stone were drowned out by the whir of the gun barrels – sweet, sweet, sound – and then the rapid hail-fire spray of bullets. Its monstrous face was reddened with its own blood now; its hand reached up to the mess where its eye had been; it gave a screeching roar of pain, unwittingly opening its mouth to the ripping tear of bullets.

It stumbled back with a low moan underscored by the thick, choking gurgles that the speakers of Lex’s helmet barely picked up. They were certain that one side had blown out. The creature staggered again, falling to its side with a heavy thud. Its chest heaved and it clawed at the ground in distress. Lex’s right arm vibrated even though they’d ceased firing. They collapsed on their back; the glitching screen in front of them warned that the fusion core was nearly expired.

“Holy shit.” The voice filtered through the remaining speaker. Outside, the monster still struggled through its death throes. Lex couldn’t remember how to get out. Their wounds ached. They were hot. They were too tired to panic.

“Everyone stay back,” the same voice commanded. Preston. _Good Preston_ , Lex thought sluggishly. Everything felt heavy. Maybe it was the metal. There was motion and sound, and their head was coming off. No, wait, their helmet. Just the helmet. They blinked up into the face of Elvis. No, that wasn’t right. Sturges.

Sturges was saying something. There was a sharp, cracking sound a ways away, a flash of red light, and the smell of burnt flesh drifted in after a moment. _Ew_.

“Hey, heya.” And then someone was patting their cheek, the one that didn’t hurt, but the contact still disturbed the other side and Lex winced. But the sharp lance of hurt helped tug them back to lucidity. “Ya’alright?”

Lex groaned in response and then found their words, though they were raspy and faint. “Get me outta this thing.” They didn’t have the luxury of feeling ashamed of the tremble in their voice.

“You just hold on now,” Sturges said. “Can you stand up?”

Lex managed to shake their head, no.

“If we get ‘em flipped over, I can access the hatch.” He wasn’t talking to them, but to Preston, who was a blurry shape standing over them. Lex forced the suit into a sitting position, holding the last of the charge like a thread about to snap. Preston and Sturges grabbed their shoulders and pushed them over; Lex did their best to help out, until they were lying on their stomach. There was a crank, and a hiss, and the back of the armor opened up reluctantly. When it became apparent that they weren’t quite capable of moving, hands reached in and helped to pull them out, laying them back on the floor. The world took another three steps back and darkened.

Lex jolted when they felt the prick of a needle and the sting of something being injected, and they struggled against the hands that pushed their shoulders down. _Should’ve known should’ve known_ screamed a voice in their head, and they weren’t quite sure what they should’ve known, but the feeling of betrayal seeped up through them regardless, flooded their lungs with panic. They wrested themself out from Preston’s hands and rolled a safe distance away, ready to go down fighting before the drugs knocked them out.

“Whoa, whoa. It’s fine – it’s just a stimpack.” It wasn’t Preston’s assurances, the way he held up his unarmed hands, or the look of concern in his eyes that made Lex pause. It was the dawn of the realization that, after the sudden, tight sting of pain, they felt _better_. They reached up and touched their face and felt smoothness where the skin had been split less than an hour before. No tenderness of bruising. Their stab wound still ached, but it was receding.

“Oh,” Lex said, relaxing, feeling dull and sheepish.

“You’ve never used a stimpack before?” Preston asked, the inquisitive crinkle returning to its place between his brows, just like when Lex lacked knowledge of ghouls.

 _Yes, I have,_ Lex thought, but “Hardly needed them in the Vault,” was what they said. Shrugging was easier now.

“What a world that must have been,” Preston said, some emotion mixing a note of flatness into his tone.  

“Yeah,” Lex said, climbing to their feet. Preston did the same; Sturges had already gotten up and was standing with the rest of the group. “Thanks for that, though.”

“No problem.” Preston smiled, and it reached his eyes, but there was hesitation there. _Good_. Lex didn’t blame him. They made a poor hero.

Lex coughed, and then stretched some of the ache out of their limbs. They turned and looked out of what used to be the doorway. The creature lay still, a charred mark on the soft underbelly above its heart. “It dead?”

“Yes,” Preston said, and Lex nodded, wrapping an arm around themself as they stared at its massive corpse. “You don’t usually see Deathclaws this far north,” Preston commented, and Lex thought the name was apt. They made a mental note to never travel south.

“Maybe he just wanted to check out this fine museum,” Lex said, gesturing to the completely ruined room. There was a human corpse lying seven feet away, and the wooden floor had been splintered and bloodied and littered with bullet shells. Not the ideal tourist attraction. “Sure put the buff in history buff, anyways.”

Preston cracked a little bit of a smile at the joke as he turned and walked back to the others. Lex lingered back, watching him check on the old woman.

“I’m fine, Preston,” she said, batting away his concern where it hovered in the air between them. “Quit your fussin’.” She turned her pale gaze to look at Lex, and Lex felt pierced clean through. Despite their better judgement to just wave and depart, Lex walked over.

“You folks heading out?” Lex asked.

“Just about ready,” Preston said. “Look, what you did for us; that was amazing. I’m glad you’re on our side.”

“You’re welcome, but, uh…I’m on my own side,” Lex said. They shrugged in something of an apology. Their shoulder hardly hurt anymore. “You all gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. For a while, anyway. We’ll get someplace safer,” Preston said, and Lex nodded. He’d frowned at Lex’s looking-out-for-number-one philosophy, and Lex saw the idea to persuade them in another direction light up in his dark eyes. Which was their own damn fault; they hadn’t exactly started out with a great track record to prove him otherwise. “Listen,” Preston said. “About the Minutemen. One thing you should know about us: we help out our friends. So, here,” he reached into the satchel at his hip. “For everything you’ve done. Thank you.”

Metal clinked into Lex’s palm. A handful of bottlecaps, and then another, and Lex cupped their hands to hold the red objects with the small white print of _Nuka Cola_. “Thanks,” Lex said, pretending they understood. They swung the empty backpack off their back and dropped the caps into a small pocket. Preston handed them a rattling, half-full box of bullets, and Lex was relieved; they definitely needed those, and their next “Thank you,” was far more sincere.  

“If you want, you’re welcome to come with us to Sanctuary,” Preston said. “I could use your help.”

Lex took a slow, measured breath through their nose and forced a smile to their face. It was very small. “I’ll think about it.”

Preston nodded, but it was the old woman who spoke up. “Before you leave, kid. The journey you’re about to start on. I seen your destiny, and I know your pain.” The rasping curl of empathy could’ve been genuine, or it could’ve just been the fatigue of age.

“Okay,” Lex said, when she was silent for a beat too many. They exchanged a glance with Preston, who didn’t look surprised by what she had said. Lex looked back at the old woman. “I’m listening.”

“You’re one out of time. Displaced. Out of hope. But all’s not lost.”

“Uh, thanks.” Lex said. They shifted from foot to foot as the woman held their gaze levelly, calm. She hardly blinked. _Glad I didn’t commit to going with you._

“Look, kid, I know how I sound. The Sight, it’s weird. Ain’t always clear.” She tilted her head at Lex, her dangling earrings brushing against her neck. The wrinkled skin around her mouth tightened as she smiled. “But you’re gonna find what you’re looking for.”

“And what am I looking for?”

The old woman’s eyes sparkled at that, and Lex clenched their jaw; hating that it was somehow the right answer. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, but that gleam in her cataract-clouded eyes told Lex that it was the first truly dishonest thing she’d said. “But I don’t need to the Sight to know where to start looking.”

“And where’s that?”

“The Great Green Jewel: Diamond City.”

“Diamond City? Where’s that?”

“Few days walk, headed down the road east,” Preston interjected, hesitation curling around his words. He shifted his weapon. “It’s not an easy route.”

“Not a good place to settle?” If his group had come all the way from Quincy, they’d had to have passed by it.

“It’s…not a great place to make a new start,” Preston said.

“But they’re not gonna shoot me if I walk in, right?”

“Probably not.” His expression told Lex that was probably the best they were going to get out of the world anymore. They’d take it. They knew how to shoot back.

“I might be able to offer more help.” The crackling voice of the old woman drew Lex’s attention back to her. “The Sight’s not always clear, but there is a way you can help. If you, say, give me a little something with a little kickstart.”

Lex’s brow furrowed, and before they could process whether or not the old lady was asking what they thought she was asking, Preston cut in.

“No, Mama Murphy. No more chems. We talked about this – you’re killing yourself.”

Mama Murphy just rolled her eyes and sighed. “I’m _fine_ , Preston. This old bird’s tougher than she looks. Handled a lot more excitement back in my day.” She winked one cloudy eye at Lex. Lex looked away to hide their smile from Preston’s glare that meant, very clearly, _do not give this old lady drugs or so help me_ , as he walked over to the rest of the survivors.

“I think…some Jet’ll do this time, kid,” Mama Murphy said in a low voice as she stood. Lex heard her joints popping. She smiled up at Lex as she shuffled over towards Preston and the others. Lex waited a moment – _eh, it wouldn’t be the_ worst _thing I’ve ever done. But what is Jet? –_ before trailing behind her.

“We’re heading out,” Preston said, turning towards Lex as they approached. “You’re still welcome to come with us. I meant it when we said that we could use your help.” His eyes were kind, and hopeful. But they’d all make it without Lex.

“I’m gonna stick around here for a little bit. See what I can—” scavenge sounded rude; loot from dead bodies just sounded morbid. “Find. Afterwards, though…” Lex continued, then shook their head. “Well, I won’t make any promises.” 

Preston nodded. “I understand.” He held out his hand, and Lex didn’t hesitate to grasp it in a firm handshake. “Thank you,” he said. “That welcome doesn’t have an expiration date. But if we don’t cross paths again, I hope you find whatever it is that you’re looking for.”

“Take care, Preston,” Lex said as they let go of each other’s hands. He tipped his hat at them, before turning away to usher his people towards the door. Towards home.

Lex stood in the battered doorway, a dead monster off to the side, and watched them walk down the road that had become a battlefield that was now a road again. Maybe it was something like foolishness, something like a dream – the idea that you’re better off somewhere else, far from the pained place you came from, even as Lex watched the survivors drag their pain down that road with them, heavy as corpses slung over their backs. But still they moved forward.

Maybe it was something like hope.


	7. Ghost Towns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, so I'm back. Had a couple rough months. Graduated from college, then finally got around to seeing a therapist on the regular, and finally got a diagnosis after almost a decade of dealing with this stuff. Major depression, and anxiety of the general and social varieties. Pretty standard. I'm on medication now, and it's supposed to help. Maybe I'll be able to get this fic on a regular schedule, but I can't make any promises.
> 
> Thanks for sticking around, if you've done so. If you're new: welcome. Regardless of how you've come to be here: thanks for reading. I appreciate each and every one of you.

The sun crept slowly across the sky, and by early evening gray clouds with swollen bellies slunk in and muted its light. The clouds hung low, far off towards the south, sickly and green. Lex’s eyes flicked up, wary, as they trekked to another dilapidated house, tearing through the dead weeds of someone’s overgrown – and possibly still radioactive – garden to get inside the front door.

The light that filtered in through the broken windows and the cracks in the wall was murky at best, and Lex’s footsteps stirred up centuries of dust. Literal centuries – _here is fear_ , their brain supplied, unbidden, some chewed and untitled bit of a poem. The couch in the living room wasn’t so much a couch anymore as it was a frame; a memory of a couch, and the shattered lamp a ghost of the warm light that must have, once, filled the room when this family gathered around their television at night – a dark, broken box with no function now. Was the word _television_ even a word still, or was it forgotten, a scrap of a dead language? How many words might Lex speak and have fall useless on the ears of this wasteland?

 _Waste Land. Eliot._ Lex remembered at last, and they pushed open a door into the darker space that was – or had been – the garage. The green light of their Pip-Boy cast an eerie atmosphere into the space, and they hesitated in the doorway, heart slowly drumming out a trepidatious beat. Lex swallowed and stepped down onto a creaking, wooden stair that had too much of a give to it, and Lex skipped the last two, feet landing firm against concrete. The air was cooler, and stale, and the nausea slunk in, a chill curling around their spine. _It’s not the same_ , but their heartbeat pounded otherwise. They breathed in through their nose. Out through their mouth. Slowly. Repeat. 

They distracted themself with scavenging through the disappointedly empty garage. Either no one in this house had been the handy type, or someone had gotten here long before Lex. Still, the dusty but bright red of a toolbox peeking out from under a partially collapsed card table caught their eye.

It contained two rolls of duct tape – one already half-used – and an old red screwdriver. Not a very well-stocked toolbox, but now Lex had the essentials: tools to help hold what was left of the world together. But that wasn’t the immediate goal, and instead Lex wound the tape around the fraying section of the strap of the mail bag they’d picked up back in Sanctuary. When they were satisfied that the patch job would hold well enough, they tossed the roll of tape into the bag with the other miscellany they’d picked up as they’d walked around Concord. A battered box with five bobby pins picked from behind the shards of a busted bathroom mirror. Wonderglue with the crusted cap that Lex hoped they could get off. A fork that needed to be boiled before Lex put it anywhere near their mouth. They still needed more bullets.

Outside again, the only trouble brewing was that storm; green lightning licked at the fringes of the clouds, still a good ways off. Less than an hour, Lex judged, until the storm hit. _This will be the last house, then_ , they thought as they skipped a rotten step and entered a house with its door already busted open, gun drawn and ready. The main floor was empty, picked clean save for a half-eaten can of potato chips. The exhausted charcoal of the campfire by the stairs was cold to the touch, and the metal pot suspended on what might’ve once been a clothes hanger suggested that the former occupant was either out for the day, or had taken off in a hurry.

Lex’s hand idly traced the remnants of the wooden banister of the staircase, already of the mind to move on _– to where, though? Sanctuary?_ – when they stopped short at the top of the stairs, finger on the trigger.

But the woman sitting against the wall didn’t move; her eyes remained closed, her face pale and slack; her hand was limp in her lap, dark with the blood of the stomach wound that had killed her. The upstairs room was as bare as the ground level, but Lex continued up the last two steps, intent on the gun propped up in the corner of the room, next to a window. It was long, and cobbled together like the pistol Lex had found and promptly discarded earlier, wood and metal and wire, tape and some sort of pipe, but it was what Lex thought it was. They held it aloft, stilling their breath like a reflex and looking down the scope and out the window, finger brushing the trigger. _How long since_ , they began to think, but shoved it aside. _Focus._ They glanced at the oncoming storm, and narrowed their attention to the bone-pale trunk of a dead tree.

The sniper rifle gave more kick than Lex expected from its creative construction, and the small puff of dust in the dirt below marked the miss of the shot. They lined the scope back up. Breathed in. Held it.

The rifle fired off with a sharp crack; pieces of bark exploded outwards, and a peal of thunder boomed and rippled as the storm closed the distance. Lex hit their mark too far to the left, skimming the outside of the truck, but a hit was a hit. They’d get another chance to polish up their rusted skills later; now, it was time to go.

Lex stepped back out onto the broken streets of Concord as the wind picked up, an odd, metallic tang snapping on their tongue, ozone and something else; the dead leaves rattled across the pavement; the hair on the back of their neck rose and Lex hurried on the road back to Sanctuary Hills, still ahead of the storm. The sky blustered into a hazardous green, their Pip-Boy crackled in warning, and darkness pressed in. The first chilled drops of rain spattered against the back of Lex’s neck. They shivered.

They were nearly to Sanctuary when lightning split the sky, the thunder cracking Lex down to the bone, and the few drops became a deluge, soaking through the thin cotton of their shirt – _Cole’s shirt –_ and plastering their hair against their forehead. Lex ran now, rifle bouncing against their back, one hand on their bag to keep it from upsetting their pace. They only slowed when they reached the bridge, and only after they felt their feet slip and slide on the wet and unsteady wood; their hand shot out to catch themself on the guardrail, and they felt it give under their weight – but it held. The bridge held until Lex was across – and then afterwards, although the deafening thunderclaps and the now incessant crackle of the Geiger counter pressed them onwards without a glance behind to check.

Lex all-but dove under the awning of the first still-standing house they came too, drenched and shivering. The vault suit seemed to be waterproof, but it didn’t lessen the miserable, skin-too-tight feeling of being soaked. The dark interior of the house leaked – no surprise – but it was an improvement from the steady downpour, even if their Pip Boy still sounded off at every flash of lightning. Between the low light and the flashes, Lex could make out a couch – _worse for the wear but at least it’s not the floor_ – and a table lying on its side. The wind was in the house, too, carrying the biting chill in through the many gaps and cracks. _Fire,_ Lex thought, teeth chattering. _I need a fire_.

Shaking hands found and piled scraps of wood near the couch, bits from the broken bedframe, miscellaneous scraps of debris and sticks from the oak tree in the yard – not nearly enough was dry but it would have to do. Their switchblade tore through the fabric of the couch – it already had holes eaten into it, it didn’t matter; no one was around to complain anyways – and Lex tugged out a handful of filling, dry and fibrous and flammable.

_Keep going. Just gotta keep going. Until you see it light._

\--

The rain was incessant in its drive against the roof, and the green flashes of the radstorm set everyone’s well-beyond frayed nerves on edge. Preston placed a hand to his chest, over his heart and felt the dull and steady beating there, tried to convince himself that he was solid, and real, and alive. The little group of survivors slept as much as could be expected, Jun and Marcy leaning against each other on the floor, Mama Murphy slumped in an old chair. Sturges had fallen asleep at the table where he’d quietly been tinkering with something. They’d had to leave so much of their supplies behind in Lexington. They’d left too much.

He wanted to press his hands to his tired eyes, cry in relief and guilt and mourning, but moving his hand from his heart seemed like too much, and he couldn’t let go of his laser musket. They hadn’t even buried Sheri; he’d knelt to close her eyes on the way out of the museum, Sturges clapping him on the shoulder and then just holding on for a long moment. He’d go back, after the dawn, after the storm let up. They hadn’t buried Arin, or Cassiday, either, but there was no going back to Lexington. Nothing left after ferals—

Preston stood, stepping quickly out of the small living space that had suddenly become _too small_ , out onto the open area of the garage, scanning out into the night as the storm lifted for a moment, the downpour easing into a dripping. It was quiet, and it was peaceful, and empty and he didn’t trust it. He wanted to. But he couldn’t yet.

He stepped out from under the awning, soggy ground giving under his boots, as if the earth existed in some half-liminal plane. The rain pattered softly against his hat, a sparse and gentle rhythm. Thunder rumbled down to the south, promising another round of storms before the night was over, but the sky was far less green now, and the bitter metal of the radstorm was fading from the air.

Preston made his way down the street. The neighborhood remained quiet, still except for the drops falling from dormant and leafless branches, off the broken gutters of hollow houses, the occasional drip from the brim of his hat. He circled back, walking around the perimeter of the house where his people slept. A light in one of the other houses caught his eye, and he readied his weapon out of habit, heart kicking in his chest. Another roll of thunder, closer, and the wind picked up again. Preston started to advance, but stopped when he saw the flash of blue in the window. Relief swept through him, and in its wake a tired sort of gratitude settled in his chest. Fat raindrops plopped down heavier on his hat, and he turned back to the house.

Despite the oncoming storm, he found himself smiling.           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know how much longer I'll be able to keep up with the song-inspired chapter titles, but this week's was brought to you by Radical Face's "[Ghost Towns](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MUA9hoDa40&ab_channel=tgjel)"
> 
> As always, you can keep up with me on [tumblr](http://undying-green.tumblr.com/).


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